


The Dating Game

by inukagome15



Series: It's All in the Mind [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dating, Domestic Avengers, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Oblivious Tony, Romance, Tony is a Mutant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inukagome15/pseuds/inukagome15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during <span class="u">It's All in the Mind</span> and <span class="u">A State of Mental Extremes</span>. Five times Tony didn't know he was out on a date, and the one time he knew exactly what was going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dating Game

**Author's Note:**

> So this is that dating story I promised you guys ages and ages ago. It's fluffy, involves lots of team stuff, and a smidgen of angst because this is _Tony_ we're talking about. But it's mostly fluff. Promise. The next _actual_ story in the series will be out sometime in November. In the meantime, enjoy this!

**Show Me Your Bowling Moves**

* * *

With Black Sabbath blasting at full volume (or at least as loud as JARVIS would allow it), Tony was in a very good place right now. The kind of place that he really didn’t see often anymore because of one thing or another, especially since Pepper had broken up with him.

No, not sex. Seriously, sex with a random woman wasn’t so magical that Tony would automatically be transported to a completely awesome mental headspace where he could invent new patents by the hour.

This was the headspace that was reached by a good night’s sleep, coffee, and his favorite music playing through the speakers. He was in the zone right now and could go for hours more. (It was also the zone where he said “five more minutes” and it really ended up being ten hours.) It was the zone where JARVIS only spoke to confirm his calculations or answer his absentminded questions. It was the zone where even Dummy didn’t dare bother him aside from nudging poisonous (and occasionally edible) smoothies to stand by his elbow.

Collapsing another hologram and letting it wink out of sight, Tony turned his attention to another dealing with a different aspect of the project he was working on – a green energy airplane.

His leg – the one that was in a cast of his own invention that he could at least walk around in – bounced along absentmindedly in time to the music pounding through the workshop. The other foot occasionally spun his chair around or slid it to a different area of the shop so he could get to something he needed.

He’d just been about to spin around to get Dummy to hold something when he rammed into Steve’s very solid body. Instead of bowling the other man over, the chair bounced off him and had Tony sliding backwards into a surprised Butterfingers.

“ _Jesus_!” Tony gripped the armrests tightly, blinking rapidly. JARVIS politely turned the music down so they could hear each other without shouting. “Steve! What were you doing?”

Steve had the decency to look slightly abashed. “I did knock.”

Tony looked pointedly at the door on the far side of the workshop, far away enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear a knock with the music playing.

“You didn’t hear.” Steve shook his head once, seeming to shake something off. “I let myself in. Tony…” He took a breath, folding his arms across his chest. “We’re going bowling.”

Tony frowned, tilting his head to the side. This concerned him why exactly? “And?”

“The team,” Steve said slowly, looking at him as if he was a very slow child and not the brilliant genius he really was. “We’re going bowling.”

Tony threw his hands up, waving away a hologram as he did. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re a part of the team?” It was phrased like a very sarcastic question. “Iron Man? Or have you been putting a dummy in that thing?”

“Are you kidding me? Dummy’d explode the suit.” From behind Steve, Dummy noticeably deflated, turning around to roll into a corner and sulk.

“Tony.” Steve had a very disapproving face on now.

“You want me to go bowling?” Tony tapped his cast pointedly. “With _this_?”

“You can walk in that thing. I’ve seen you.”

“Bowling is another matter.”

“Since when do you make something that’ll inconvenience you in any way?”

Tony opened his mouth to fire off a sharp, witty rejoinder, only to be viciously reminded of the truth by the heavy weight of the arc reactor in his chest. If there was anything that inconvenienced him…the arc reactor was it. He’d gotten used to the heavy weight and the constant thud of pain that came with it (just in the back of his mind now), but there were times he wished he could just _breathe_.

Closing his mouth, Tony wet his lips before lightly saying, “There have been times I’ve been known to do so.”

Now Steve studied him intensely, his eyes a heavy weight on Tony. A faint flicker of what looked like regret crossed his face before steely determination replaced it. “You’re coming,” Steve said firmly.

“Oh God. You’re _serious_?”

“Yes.” Steve took a step forward, only for Tony to push himself back several feet.

“I don’t do bowling,” Tony said. “Or sports, really. They give me hives.”

“I’ve seen the photos of you playing baseball,” Steve said patiently, earning himself an outraged glare. He paused for a moment before a smirk pulled at his lips. “You can’t bowl,” he stated.

Tony stiffened, pulling himself upright in his seat. “I can bowl!” he proclaimed indignantly.

“Prove it.”

“I will out-bowl _all_ of you!” Tony insisted, standing up now. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, the cast digging slightly into his shin before he managed to get it fitting right. “You won’t even know what hit you,” he continued, folding his arms across his chest.

“All I hear is talk,” Steve said, shrugging. “You gonna show your moves?”

The words had a weight to them that had Tony pause before he responded, shooting Steve a wary look that was met with a beatific face. “I’ve got moves,” he said slowly, rolling his weight onto his good leg. “Do you?”

For some reason, this had Steve blushing lightly. “They’re waiting,” he said, his voice even.

“Okay. Great.” Tony clapped his hands and gestured widely to save and close the rest of his work. “JARVIS, shut down after me.”

“Of course, sir.”

As Tony walked clumsily to the elevator that would take them both to the main floor of the mansion, he shot a parting rejoinder over his shoulder to Steve, “You’ll regret this.”

Never mind he’d never been bowling before. It was all physics. He could totally do this.

* * *

About an hour later found Tony reevaluating his earlier assumption that he could bowl. Steve was setting up a game and he’d yet to even touch a bowling ball, but the entire thing seemed to involve more balance and grace than he felt capable of with the cast on.

He could _walk_ with it, but bowling was another matter entirely.

“Loser has to cook breakfast for the next few weeks,” Clint said, rolling an obnoxiously pink bowling ball around in his hands.

Natasha shot Tony a look out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure?”

“I object,” Tony said indignantly. “I can cook.”

“No, you can’t,” Bruce said evenly, looking down at his puke green bowling ball that had been a gag gift from Clint. “You burnt the water last time you tried.”

“And since you can’t actually burn _water_ , we’ll forever be wondering how you managed that,” Clint said pointedly.

“It caught fire,” Bruce marveled, eyes misty as he remembered that particular morning.

“The game’s been set up!” Steve interrupted, catching everyone’s attention. “Thor, you’re up first.”

“Whose idea was that?” Clint asked, wisely taking several steps back as Thor went to pick out a large bowling ball worthy of his superior strength.

“It’s set at random,” Steve said, shrugging from behind the mini-computer where he’d plugged in the names and stats.

Glancing up at the screen, Tony noted he was last. Just as well; it gave him some time to look at what he needed to do to not bowl like a complete and utter newbie.

Not that he’d be the worst at it, since Thor first ended up using too little strength and got a gutter ball. His second try was marginally more successful and knocked down half the pins.

Natasha was up next, and her shot was absolutely perfect. Of course. Naturally. And she’d done it in such a way that Tony couldn’t even study her technique.

The raised eyebrow she turned in his direction had Tony suspect she knew he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Steve’s bowling technique looked perfect from what Tony could tell. It was right out of the textbook, and he knocked down all the pins on his first try.

Clint whistled lowly, sauntering up for his turn. “Nice shot, Cap.”

Steve’s eyes darted over to Tony. “I try.”

Tony huffed lightly, understanding what he was trying to convey. “I get it. You have _moves_.”

For some reason, this statement had Clint fumble his toss and get a gutter ball. Wincing and shaking his head, Clint shot Tony a dark look, fetched his pink ball when it returned, and knocked out all the pins.

Bruce ended up knocking down only half of the pins with both of his turns combined. He looked rather relieved to be out of the spotlight by the time his second turn was over, and he slunk back to sit next to Tony.

Plastering a confident look on his face, Tony stood, slowly moving over to the selection of balls they had. There was an Iron Man themed one sitting there, and he had the sneaking suspicion that this outing had been planned for a while.

Slipping his fingers into the three holes, he discreetly checked the ball’s weight. It was the right weight from what he could tell, but now he had to figure out just how he’d pull this off.

“You’ve never been bowling before, have you?” Natasha asked dryly.

“I have,” Tony said, eyes flickering between the bowling ball and the lane. “I definitely have.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Clint said.

“I am not lying, as is evidenced by the fact that my pants are perfectly fine.” Tony shot a broad grin in the other’s direction before turning his attention to the daunting prospect of bowling.

It was all physics, and he was a whiz at that.

“No cheating,” Clint said pointedly from behind Tony.

Tony was unable to keep the peeved tone out of his voice. “I _can’t_ , remember?”

He wouldn’t be able to run like he could see other people doing, but that wasn’t exactly required.

Running the calculations through his head one last time, Tony decided to just go for it.

Five seconds later the red and gold bowling ball hit the pins at the exact angle needed to knock all of them down in one go.

“Oh _yes_!” Tony gave a triumphant fist pump, spinning around to beam at the rest of his team. “What did I tell you?”

Clint sniffed imperiously, taking a long draught of the soda he’d bought earlier. “You cheated.”

“I did _not_!”

“Using that brain of yours counts.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Then what? Would you prefer I not think?” Fat chance of that. His brain never shut up, and he had decades of experience to confirm that.

Thankfully, Thor chose this moment to break into the ensuing snipe fest. “It is my turn now, is it not?”

“Yes, it is,” Bruce said hurriedly, seemingly giving Clint a kick in the ankles judging from the pained look that flashed across the other’s face.

Feeling deeply insulted ( _deeply_ ), Tony tromped back to his seat and flopped down, folding his arms across his chest. (He was _not_ sulking. He wasn’t.)

Pursing his lips for a moment, Steve eventually leaned over and said, “You were right. You _do_ have moves.”

The sounds of Clint’s spluttering and choking on his soda drowned out Thor’s triumphant shout when he managed to get a strike on his first shot.

* * *

**A Movie Proposal**

* * *

Two days after they’d gone bowling (and where Tony had come in close second to Clint after a furious battle), Steve again dragged Tony out of his workshop, this time for a movie.

“It’s a _movie_ ,” Tony definitely didn’t whine, slapping away Steve’s hand as he tried to go for his collar again. “I don’t see why I need to come!”

Steve had a very patient look on his face. “It’s a team building activity, Tony.”

“It’s a _movie_ ,” Tony repeated, definitely not pouting as he leaned against the wall of the elevator. “How much team building can we possibly do while we stare at a screen and watch moving pictures?”

Now Steve looked at him pityingly.

“What?” Tony frowned. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Yes.” Steve tapped his cheek. “But that’s not the point. You’ve missed the last two movie nights we had because of meetings. This time Pepper let me know that you were most definitely free.”

“That’s – that’s not true at all. I’m busy – very busy. Did you not see how busy I was down there?”

“JARVIS tells me you were doing nothing other than annoying Dummy by making him a new blender.”

Tony shot a glare at the camera in the elevator. “JARVIS, you traitor.”

JARVIS wisely remained silent, and the elevator doors slid open.

“Do you not want to spend time with us?” Steve had a hangdog look about him now.

“What? No. That’s not it at all!” Tony backed out of the elevator, nearly falling over backwards as his cast caught on the carpet. Only Steve catching hold of his hand prevented him from colliding rather painfully with the floor. “There – I have something to work on!” He glared down at the cast.

“Tony.” Steve let his hand go, giving him a pointed look.

Sighing, Tony tapped his fingers against his elbow. “Having Natasha throw knives at me is getting rather old.”

“They just want to help.”

“Yeah, but they can _not_ , you know?” Tony dropped his hands to his sides, turning away to tromp to the living room. “Never mind.”

There was silence behind him before he could pick up the sounds of Steve quietly following him. He was relieved that Steve hadn’t tried to make excuses for the others; there really wasn’t anything Steve could say.

“So what do we have queued up?” Tony asked the moment he entered the room.

“ _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ ,” Clint said through a mouthful of popcorn. One kernel was promptly flung at Tony and bounced harmlessly off his arc reactor. “Steve hasn’t seen it yet.”

Tony shot an amused glance at Steve. “Well, that’s just a crime.”

“One that’s being rectified,” Clint confirmed, nodding as he gestured at Natasha to start the movie.

“We will then have one movie named _The Proposal_ for watching,” Thor said, looking like a very satisfied house cat in his squashy bean chair.

“Romance?” Tony was unable to keep from grimacing.

“Don’t knock Sandra Bullock,” Clint said, throwing another kernel that got caught in Tony’s hair.

Impatiently brushing it out, Tony was reminded of the grease he probably had smeared on his cheek. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt down over his hand and rubbed it roughly over his cheek, hoping that he didn’t have anything else on the cloth that would smear over his face.

Judging from Steve’s amused look by the time he let his hand drop, he’d just made it worse.

Considering what Dummy usually put in his smoothies, Tony thought he was better off just not bothering. But then Steve handed him a wet hanky (really? A _hanky_? And how’d he get it wet?) and Tony was able to wipe it off without much trouble.

By that time the opening credits had already rolled and everyone else was fully engrossed in the movie. For some reason, Steve wasn’t half as engrossed even though he hadn’t watched the movie. His eyes kept straying to Tony’s face (did he still have something on it?), but finally he turned to give the movie his full attention.

Bruce left first about half an hour before the movie’s end, citing exhaustion as an excuse. Tony didn’t really notice, too busy bemoaning the movie’s lack of scientific validity and the implausible physics in it. (Never mind it was science _fiction_ ; there was a difference between science _fantasy_ and science _fiction_ , and this movie was very close to crossing the line.)

By the time _The Proposal_ was starting, Thor had left, giving Tony a hearty clap on his good leg and a wink. Which made no sense, but Tony decided to write it off as a Norse god quirk.

“I thought he wanted to watch this?” Tony whispered to Clint.

“Nah,” Clint said, popping some more popcorn in his mouth. “He’s watched this like ten times. Keeps saying it reminds him of him and Jane.”

They’d reached the part when the old lady was commenting on Sandra Bullock’s ridiculously high heels when Natasha called it quits, stealing Clint’s popcorn bowl as she did.

Clint left during the party when the main characters had to kiss to keep up charades, yawning hugely as he did. It looked completely fake, but Tony wasn’t willing to risk Clint dropping something else in his vicinity just on the off chance his telekinesis would kick in at that exact moment (because the vase Clint had broken the last time was _so_ pretty; Clint maintained it was an accident, but no one believed him).

That just left Tony and Steve sitting on the couch in the dark while the romantic comedy played on the screen.

Tony was uncomfortably aware of Steve’s presence mere inches from his body. The whole entire thing seemed too engineered to be real, but it was also so implausible that Tony didn’t want to say anything in case he sounded overly paranoid. (Because him and Steve? Ha!)

As it was, Tony didn’t have to worry about it too much. The movie was so boring (romantic comedies weren’t his thing, okay) that he ended up falling asleep, his head dropping to a rest on Steve’s shoulder.

When he woke up the next morning, he’d been relocated to his bed and tucked in.

* * *

**Sculpt Me Like One of Your French Girls**

* * *

It was three days after the weird movie night when Steve popped up unexpectedly in his workshop and announced, “We’re going to a museum!”

Tony didn’t even look up from where he’d been tweaking the wires in one of the suit’s legs. “Have fun.”

“You’re coming with.” Steve sounded unusually cheery.

“I don’t do museums.” Tony tapped Dummy to let him know he needed the magnifying glass. The bot nearly hit Tony in the face in his eagerness to be useful. “Careful!”

“I think you’ll like this one.”

“They’re all stuffy places and my feet hurt after thirty minutes. No, thanks.” Tony squinted through the magnifying glass, desperately trying to see if that smudge was on the glass or in the suit. He hoped it was the glass.

“You don’t like Madame Tussauds?”

This caught Tony’s attention and he looked up, eyebrows raised. “Madame _what_?”

It was only then that he realized he should have continued to feign disinterest and boredom, because Steve latched onto that like a dog with a bone (and that put an image of an overly eager golden retriever in Tony’s head, which was _not_ what he needed). Steve grabbed Tony’s jacket from where it had been slung carelessly over a chair and hauled him out of the workshop.

Dummy was left standing rather forlornly by the table and continued to sulk for hours even after Tony came back and tried to apologize.

But this wasn’t about Dummy. And it wasn’t even about the museum, though that turned out to be a riot in itself.

Admissions was absolutely no problem, but the moment they ran into lifelike wax replicas of themselves, all bets were off.

Clint squinted at himself. “I think they added like ten pounds.”

“They have incorrectly captured Mjölnir’s likeness,” Thor said, sounding displeased.

“I don’t have _that_ big a bust,” Natasha said coolly, glaring frostily at the sultry way her wax figure was posed.

Steve was staring anywhere but at the crotch of his wax figure.

“Huh.” Bruce studied the green likeness of Hulk, his glasses shining in the light. “I didn’t know the pants fit that well.”

“I like it,” Tony decided, grinning at the triumphant pose his wax figure was striking.

“You would,” Natasha said dryly from besides him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony turned, only to find that Natasha had somehow disappeared from one moment to the next. “And what are you? An angel? That’s unnatural!”

“I think I got that reference,” Steve said, frowning slightly as he turned his back to the extremely well-defined Captain America wax model. “ _Supernatural_ , right?”

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed, turning to see if he could wrangle Clint into telling him how Natasha managed to escape like that, only to be aggrieved when the archer was nowhere to be found. “Where’d he go?”

“I think you’ll find it’s _super_ natural,” Bruce said gravely, tucking his glasses back into his shirt pocket.

“Ugh, Bruce. Just stop. I like my physics the way they are.”

“So Ripley’s Museum is out then?” Steve asked innocently.

“That’s a bunch of hype and crap,” Tony said indignantly. “I’m not going anywhere near there.”

“Actually, most of that stuff is pretty accurate,” Bruce said. “We can do some crazy things.”

Thor had disappeared now, and Tony didn’t really want to know what he was up to.

“Yeah, fine,” Tony conceded. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Hey, Mom,” a small boy called, “it’s Iron Man!”

“Leaving now,” Tony said quickly, slipping to the side and out of the room before the others could protest.

This time he was in a room full of famous people that weren’t superheroes, though apparently he still counted as a regular human because a very realistic model of Tony Stark was standing in the spotlight, fingers thrown up in a “V” for victory.

Steve came up next to him, bending slightly to read the placard. “So this is when you called a room of Senators ‘ass-clowns’?”

“Fond memories,” Tony said, grinning slightly. If he took out the fact that he’d been slowly dying from palladium poisoning and was simultaneously terrified and resigned to the fact, it had been rather fun.

He almost expected Bruce to pipe up with something and turned when no response was forthcoming. His brow furrowed in confusion when he realized Bruce was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d Bruce go?” he asked.

“I think he said something about wanting to see if they had an Albert Einstein anywhere,” Steve said, standing up straight, apparently finished with reading the placard.

“They probably do.” Tony deliberately didn’t look towards the corner where they had a Howard Stark grinning smarmily. “But I’m over physics geniuses with crazy white hair. Let’s go see if they’ve got Brad Pitt.”

They didn’t quite find Brad Pitt, but they did stumble upon David Tennant and the other Doctors. Steve was delighted, as he’d recently gotten into _Doctor Who_ along with the other classic series every single member of the team was trying to addict him to. They had a running bet Steve didn’t know about that hinged on which series would be Steve’s absolutely favorite; Tony had his money on _Star Trek_ , which he was responsible for introducing Steve to.

“You think they’ve got other characters here?” Steve asked, reading the placard on the second Doctor.

“I dunno. We can take a look.”

They didn’t get back to the mansion until eight, and by that time Tony was firmly resolved not to sleep unless it was with the lights on. The rest of the team had already eaten dinner by then, but that was fine since he and Steve had gotten Subway sandwiches on the way home.

Tony never did find out where the rest of the team had gone to during the time he and Steve had been in the museum.

* * *

**The Random Grocery List**

* * *

“We need to go shopping,” Clint said the morning after they came back from the museum.

Tony very carefully put his cereal bowl down next to his tablet. “Can I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because we’re out of tomatoes.”

Tony furrowed his brow, looking past Clint to the pantry where he was pretty sure he had seen rows upon rows of canned tomatoes.

“ _Fresh_ tomatoes,” Clint clarified. “We also need cucumbers, broccoli, bananas, apples, paprika, herbs, garlic, and cereal!”

“That sounds like a really random list of groceries you just made up on the spot.”

“We also need pizza,” Clint added thoughtfully, kicking back a chair and plopping down into it.

“We _have_ pizza.”

“Microwaveable pizza.” Clint gave the newly upgraded stove a disdainful look. “I’m not touching that thing with a ten foot pole.”

The stove dinged indignantly, the gas turning on with an air of distinct insult.

Tony shoved the cereal bowl to the side. “You can ask JARVIS to order it. It’s why he’s here.”

“You mean your AI is a glorified butler?”

“I live to serve,” JARVIS said dutifully. “Would you prefer orange or apple juice this morning?”

“Neither, thanks.” Clint turned his attention back to Tony. “We need _human_ hands to do the shopping.”

“I have a cast!”

“Yeah, and?”

“You’re the one who wants to go shopping in the first place. Why are you telling me?”

“It’s your turn to do the shopping,” Clint pointed out.

“What? No, it isn’t! That’s why we have JARVIS! So don’t we _do_ the shopping!”

Clint gave him a pitying look. “Where’ve you been lately? We all go out and do it!”

Tony gave him a suspicious look. “Really.”

“Really.” Clint’s reply was deadpan. “And it’s your turn.”

“I’m just going to get JARVIS to do it.”

“No, you’re not.” Clint grinned wickedly. “’Cause Steve is supervising.”

Tony would’ve jumped to his feet if he were capable of doing so without stumbling like a fool. “What’s the point of it being my turn to shop if I’m getting a chaperone?”

Clint shrugged, smiling beatifically. “By the way, we also need low fat milk. Thor likes the whole kind, but Nat prefers the two percent.”

Tony stared him down. “So…get all three?”

Clint beamed at him. “Right-o.”

Steve poked his head into the kitchen before Tony could come up with a suitable reply that would wipe that smirk off Clint’s face. “Are we ready to go?”

Despite Tony’s numerous protests, he was eventually hauled into a car with Steve behind the wheel. Then they set off to a Whole Foods supermarket, parking legally despite Tony’s huffs and rolled eyes.

Because it was New York City, they didn’t attract many stares as they entered the store. Steve grabbed a cart, and Tony was just left shuffling along awkwardly and wishing that the cast could finally come off. It was getting to be a pain no matter how many times he adjusted the fit or tweaked something else to make it more comfortable to walk around in.

“Clint said something about squash, didn’t he?” Tony asked as they passed the produce section.

“Cucumber,” Steve corrected, grabbing and bagging ten of them.

“Overkill, don’t you think?”

Steve shot him a fond look. “We eat a lot more than that in a week, Tony.”

“Oh.” Tony scratched his neck, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling (which wasn’t very interesting much to his disappointment).

“Besides,” Steve continued, getting Tony’s attention, “we don’t actually go shopping.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “I knew it!” His triumphant tone caught the attention of several other shoppers, but they quickly looked away upon seeing who it was.

“Why are we here then?” Tony asked after a few moments.

“They wanted us out,” Steve said, looking over the tomatoes Clint had asked for.

“We were out yesterday.”

“I mean _out_.” Steve gave Tony a very pointed look that probably meant a lot more than Tony could read into it.

Tony stared back blankly. “Okay…”

Sighing heavily, Steve shook his head and dropped the bag of tomatoes in the cart. “Never mind.” He muttered something else under his breath that Tony didn’t catch.

“Sorry?”

Steve shot him a grin that was a bit too bright to be genuine. “Just looking for the paprika.”

Tony brushed it off, not wanting to dig deeper. “Bright green, yellow, or red?”

“Why not all of them?”

Tony grinned. “We can make rainbow casserole.”

Steve shot him a look over his shoulder. “You are _not_ going near the stove.”

Tony plastered an innocent look on his face. “I never said I would.”

“That’s what you said last time, and now look what we have.”

“A lovely stove that can cook for himself?”

“Exactly.”

Tony rolled his eyes, propping an elbow against the handle of the cart. “See if I ever do anything else for you guys.”

Ducking his head, Steve murmured something else Tony didn’t quite catch. This time, though, Tony couldn’t be bothered to ask him to elaborate. If it was something Tony was meant to hear, Steve could at least not mumble.

Sighing, Tony took the initiative to go and get the cereal Clint had wanted. As it had seemed to be tacked on as more of an afterthought than anything else, Tony thought he hadn’t really been serious about it. If that was the case, he could get some sugary and fruity stuff that no one would want to eat other than Thor.

When Steve and Tony got back from the shopping trip (with a _healthy_ cereal since Whole Foods apparently didn’t stock anything unhealthy), the rest of the team had vaguely shifty looks about them. These soon shifted to ones of disappointment when Tony promptly descended to the workshop without a word other than sticking his tongue out in a very adult-like manner.

It was only an hour later when Bruce came down, splattered with tomato sauce and greasy cheese from the pizza Thor had attempted to cook in the stove and exploded because of his eagerness. He didn’t look at all impressed by Tony’s laughing and attempted apologies.

* * *

**The Date That Isn’t a Date Because Steve Isn’t Like That**

* * *

“Team dinner,” Steve said a week after the day of the grocery shopping trip (that Tony was never ever going to do again).

“No,” Tony said, giving Steve a dismissive flick of his screwdriver. “Go away. I’m busy.”

“If you’re making a sentient toaster, I will haul you out of here.”

Vaguely guiltily, Tony looked down at the toaster he had been modifying for Thor. He’d been working on it off and on for months, always meaning to get it done but sidetracked by other projects.

“No,” Tony finally said, setting his screwdriver down and spinning around to look at Steve. “But I don’t get why I need to be there for that team dinner thing.”

Steve gave the ceiling a “God-help-me” look. “Because you’re on the team,” he said eventually.

Tony was silent for a moment, ignoring the way Dummy discreetly began moving the tools back into the toolbox. “Who’s cooking?” he asked.

Steve brightened. “I did. It’s the stuff we got last week.”

“You mean you used _everything_ we bought? I don’t think I’m in the mood for cereal.”

“Not cereal,” Steve said, sounding amused. “Come on, Tony.”

Casting a longing look at his work – only to find that Dummy had apparently cleared even the toaster away – Tony gave it up for lost and followed Steve upstairs.

Just to find the rest of the team in the kitchen looking kind of shifty. Even shiftier than last week.

“Sooo…” Clint coughed lightly, looking down at an imaginary watch on his wrist. “I’ve got an appointment to get to. Really urgent, came up last minute.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. paperwork,” Natasha filled in smoothly, slipping her cell phone into her pocket. “Don’t wait up for us.”

Without another word, the two agents slipped out of the kitchen as if they’d never been there.

Tony stood still, pondering the ramifications of two highly trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agents being up to something nefarious.

This was soon discarded when Bruce made a noise in the back of his throat and stood up, also tucking his phone away. “I have a couple of experiments to tend to,” he announced, slowly walking backwards. “Likely to explode if I don’t…take care of them.” He was gone before Tony could point out that Bruce’s experiments never exploded; they simply stank the place up.

“I thought this was supposed to be a _team_ dinner?” Tony asked, turning to Steve.

Steve had a rather hunted look on his face. “It is? I mean, it was supposed to be?” He shot Thor a hopeful glance. “Thor’s here!”

“Alas, I must depart as well.” Thor beamed broadly. “My lady Jane has requested my presence. It has been many moons since I last gazed upon her beautiful face, and I wish to spend the time I have with her. Farewell, brothers!” He clasped a startled Tony in a hug before bouncing off into the mansion to get his hammer and fly to New Mexico.

Leaving aside the fact that Thor didn’t usually speak in such flowery language, Tony was getting seriously confused. But then the thought crossed his mind that since this _wasn’t_ a team dinner, he could easily slip back into the workshop and get started on something else.

Steve grabbing his arm before he could leave put a damper on that plan. “You need to eat!” he said hastily.

“I ate!” Tony thought back to the last meal he had. It had been sometime yesterday…

“You ate yesterday afternoon, and it was half a sandwich before you wandered off muttering about singing vases.”

“What happened to the other half?”

“I found it lying in a plant pot on a windowsill.”

“Really?” Tony wondered why on Earth he’d put a sandwich (or half of one anyway) in a plant pot.

“I don’t know why,” Steve said, reading his unspoken question. “And you’re going to eat something. So sit down.”

Tony did, making sure to take the seat furthest from the stove and the various things bubbling away on the top.

It took about ten minutes for Steve to put all the food on the table and then serve it. There was regular boiled broccoli with tomatoes and garlic, pasta, and what looked like a cucumber salad with a creamy herby sauce.

It was incredibly romantic except for how there were no candles, no tablecloth, and the stove clicking disapprovingly in the background.

Steve raised an eyebrow and pointed at Tony’s plate with his fork, saying sternly, “Eat.”

Automatically, Tony did, taking a bite of the cucumber salad. Upon swallowing, he realized he was a lot hungrier than he’d originally thought he was.

“This is good,” Tony said after his fifth bite.

“I got the recipe from Germany,” Steve said, taking a lengthy gulp of water.

Tony’s eyes tracked the movement of his throat before he shook himself and returned his attention to his meal.

Regardless of what his suspicions were telling him (and what he _hoped_ ; hoping was a bad thing, could get him hurt), Tony firmly told himself that there was absolutely nothing to this. It was a dinner between teammates. A dinner that had been supposed to be for the whole team before they made up ridiculous excuses and left.

Besides, it wasn’t like Steve swung that way. (And he shouldn’t hope, shouldn’t dream, shouldn’t _want_. Wanting only got him in trouble, and he could never hope to land another person half as smart or brilliant as Pepper. And where was Steve? Miles above anything Tony could ever hope to get.)

Tony should just be satisfied with this and count himself lucky that his team accepted him for who he was.

(He only had a week until his cast came off, and then he could just run away rather than get roped into all these ridiculous team building activities.)

* * *

**And the One Tony Knew was a Date**

* * *

It was their second date, and after he’d arrived late for his first one, Tony wasn’t as nervous as he’d been before. Yeah, he was still just a _bit_ nervous, but it was manageable. Totally. This was going to work out. Steve had promised long-term, and Tony would hold him to that. (Never mind Tony could barely hold onto anything he made himself; he was going to do his hardest to hold onto _Steve_.)

“Breathe, sir,” JARVIS said calmly, breaking into Tony’s racing thoughts.

“I’m breathing,” Tony murmured, running a critical eye down his reflection. “I’m definitely breathing.” He tugged down on the red turtleneck sweater he was wearing, wondering if it was too stuffy and not-him (it had been a gag gift from Pepper one year, but he’d actually considered wearing it even then).

“You look perfectly dashing, sir.”

“Thanks, JARVIS. I think…” Tony eyeballed his reflection one last time before sighing and deciding to just go with it. If anything, it could end up in some pretty pictures.

“Red is most certainly your color, sir.”

Tony’s head snapped up, eyes narrowed at the nearest camera. “Are you buttering me up? Did something happen in the shop I should know about?”

JARVIS’s reply was innocent. “Am I not allowed to compliment my creator?”

“Compliment, sure, but not _butter him up_.”

“Who’s buttering who up?” Steve asked from outside the door.

Tony barely squashed a yelp before he made a slicing motion at his neck to shut JARVIS up and turned to the door. “No one! You’re ready?”

“It’s been half an hour.”

“Has it?” Tony shot a panicked look at the clock, only to find that it was true. How had he spent _thirty minutes_ getting ready?

Steve cracked the door open, hesitantly looking inside. “Are you all right?”

“Fine!” Tony refrained from straightening his sweater. “Ready?”

Steve gave him a fond look that never stopped making Tony’s heart beat faster. “I am. The car’s waiting.”

Tony gave a weak grin at that, slipping past Steve to the hallway outside his room. “Bowling then?”

“Bowling,” Steve confirmed, slipping his hand into Tony’s and interlacing their fingers. “Just like the first time I tried to take you out.”

Tony’s mind went back to that first team outing a week after Pepper had broken up with him. “That was a team thing!”

“It was,” Steve agreed, leading them down to the garage. “But it was also a ‘let’s get Tony out of the shop and get him to stop moping’ thing.”

“I don’t _mope_.”

“You were moping.” Steve grinned, leaning in to drop a kiss on Tony’s nose. “But don’t worry. You soon stopped.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, not at all appeased by the kiss. “I am not amused,” he informed Steve.

“I’m not giving you ten quid for that,” Steve retorted, opening Tony’s door for him like a true gentleman.

“Expected, since we’re not in Scotland.” Tony gave him a squinty-eyed grin, eliciting another kiss on his nose for his troubles. He blinked, surprised. “What was that for?”

Steve beamed. “No reason.”

Bemused, Tony buckled in, not missing the way Steve’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned broadly. It gave him the urge to lean over and kiss the crinkles, but Steve was driving and that was a bad idea. (It was always a bad idea to distract the driver, right?)

They arrived at the bowling alley in about thirty minutes with New York’s infamous traffic jams slowing them down. It was all Tony could do not to haul Steve in and kiss him silly during the times they were just standing still. (The man looked damn good in v-neck sweater and jeans.)

Steve had set up the game by the time Tony quietly said, “That was the first time I’d ever been bowling.”

Giving a small smile, Steve said softly, “I know.”

Tony blinked, frowning slightly. “You did? How?”

“The way you kept staring at the bowling balls like they’d bite you was a bit of a giveaway.”

“Oh. Well…” Tony huffed, glancing off to the side.

“You did perfectly,” Steve assured him.

“Of course I did.” Tony shot him a broad smile. “I’m a genius.”

Now Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ve gathered.”

“Is… Are you being sarcastic?”

“You don’t have a monopoly on sarcastic quips.” Steve tapped the screen and added, “You’re up first. Still think you can wipe the floor with me?”

Tony waggled his eyebrows, bouncing up and down on two perfectly whole legs. “I don’t think, I _know_.”

Steve’s grin was wicked. “Have you got the moves?”

Leaning in, Tony’s rejoinder was spoken in his best bedroom voice. “Oh, Captain, I _do_.”

And then, giving a stunned Steve a parting kiss, Tony drew back and dashed off to pick out his bowling ball.

The game didn’t last half as long as the first time Tony had gone bowling, mainly because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and were nearly kicked out five times before Steve finally dragged him out and back to the mansion.

This time both of them showed each other their moves.

Very, very thoroughly.

**Author's Note:**

> So...how'd you like it? The first four parts took place during It's All in the Mind before Tony's ill-advised trip to Japan. The last took place in the two weeks after their first date and before Tony met up with Maya. Let me know what you thought!


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